


my palate has standards

by Misty_Reeyus



Series: Fuckbuddies Verse [3]
Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: Velvet is all too familiar with the taste of blood.





	my palate has standards

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Hunger Left Unsatisfied](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300080) by [Lord_of_Spirits_and_Bazongas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_of_Spirits_and_Bazongas/pseuds/Lord_of_Spirits_and_Bazongas). 



> turns out the fuckbuddies verse wasn’t quite ready to lay down and die just yet.
> 
> credit to rii for writing magivel bloodplay first and making me wanna write my own.

The first time Magilou bleeds is an accident.

From the start, it’s not like Velvet was ever careful when handling Magilou in bed. Their arrangement has always been that Velvet can do whatever she wants as roughly as she wants, and Magilou was only ever all too happy to play along. So while it’s not intentional, it’s also not a shock when once, in the midst of grinding against each other, Velvet digs her fingernails just a bit too sharply into Magilou’s waist and winds up harshly breaking skin.

That doesn’t deter Magilou. If anything, it only seems to spur her on, because _of course_ she likes the pain, and of course she yelp-moans and shudders and promptly comes within the next half-minute.

Several rolls of her hips later, Velvet reaches her own climax, then disentangles herself from Magilou’s person. She uses the bedsheets to wipe her red-stained fingers clean, and Magilou heals herself up before there’s even a chance for scabs to form. With their business concluded, the two part ways for the night.

After that, every scratch Velvet leaves is left on purpose.

* * *

Scrapes and bruises and bitemarks become part of their nightly routine, because Magilou likes the pain and Velvet likes doling it out. Sure, there are plenty of ways to hurt Magilou that don’t involve making her bleed, and Velvet uses those techniques just as often, but the blood in particular adds an almost primal element when they fuck. The sight of bright red, the smell of fresh wounds—they set alight something deep within Velvet, invigorate the parts of her that are more instinctual, more monstrous than human.

It’s _exciting_ , to swipe her left-hand claws down Magilou’s chest, to hear that breathy, pained gasp and watch tears spring to multicolored eyes. Velvet retracts her barely-released hand, seals it back up completely, as the five jagged scratches she left begin to seep crimson. Blood flows from the gashes in small rivulets, pooling in the ever so slight dip between flat breasts.

Magilou’s whole form quivers with anticipation, and Velvet, struck with the urge to play with her prey just a little more, impulsively dips down to bite at her nipple. Magilou yelps aloud in surprise, but Velvet doesn’t have time to enjoy that reaction once the blood dribbles over her skin and hits Velvet’s lips.

Actual flavor washes over her tongue, and the sensation is so sudden that that Velvet instantly freezes up.

Magilou notices, and doesn’t miss the opportunity to take a shot at her.

“Now, what ever happened to your palate having ‘high standards’, hmm?” Even through ragged breaths, Magilou’s tone still manages to be perfectly taunting. “Although to be fair, when you can only taste one thing, I suppose you must take what you can get.”

Velvet scowls. God, why must Magilou always say the exact _worst_ possible things?

In righteous fury, Velvet detaches her mouth and replaces it with her right hand, rolling the nub mercilessly between forefinger and thumb. At the same time, she uses her left hand to fiercely pinch at Magilou’s clit, and it doesn’t take much more of that combined stimulus before Magilou’s tumbling over the edge, her release spilling over Velvet’s hand.

Velvet takes care of herself with a few humps against Magilou’s knee and then doesn’t bother sticking around, quickly rolling off the bed. Aiming to get herself redressed, she bends down to reach for her shorts where they lie on the floor, but pauses when she notices the smear of red over her right palm. Blood must have gotten there when she grabbed at Magilou’s chest, and now it’s smeared, partially coagulated, a gel-like streak that’s turning black around the edges.

Velvet glances back towards the bed. Magilou remains motionless atop the mattress, clearly too preoccupied with gasping for breath to pay attention to anything else.

Unseen by her, Velvet brings her hand to her mouth to lick it clean.

* * *

Velvet is all too familiar with the taste of blood.

During those three years in prison, it was the only taste she ever knew, creeping up her throat and ghosting over her tongue each time she devoured. Even now, she can’t taste anything else, and in the first place, devouring has never been pleasant. It’s iron and salt, with the texture of skin and sinew, laced with dirt and grime and hatred. Velvet swallows people whole and watches their lives disappear, then has to force down their bitterness as their memories claw up her throat.

(Seres was the worst, oh Seres, who had tasted so awful Velvet wanted to _retch_.)

For as long as it’s mattered, blood has tasted like filth and pain and despair, so it surprised Velvet when Magilou’s blood was different. Maybe because she actually tasted it with her mouth instead of her hand, maybe because it didn’t come with an influx of memories, maybe because Magilou’s not _dead_ and dead man’s blood can’t help but taste bitter every time. But for once, that familiar tang over Velvet’s tongue wasn’t unpleasant—somehow, instead, it was inexplicably _intoxicating_.

And for just a moment, in combination with the pleasure blossoming deep in her belly, Velvet felt _full_.

* * *

The next time Velvet tears up Magilou’s skin, she can’t help staring at her own handiwork. With various lacerations all down her torso, Magilou is wet between her legs, squirming and sweating beneath Velvet, soaked all over with a variety of fluids. Yet, right now, all Velvet can really see is the _red_ , the blood smeared all over pale skin in erratic, attractive, _delectable_ strokes.

Smirking, Magilou brushes her own hand along the gash down her left side, holds up a single finger as its tip drips with crimson.

“Oh, my voracious Velvet,” she drawls, pressing the finger to Velvet’s lips as her eyes gleam knowingly. “Why hold back? You know you want to.”

Oh, _hell yes she does_.

In the face of that temptation, Velvet is embarrassingly quick to crumble. Before she can even think of stopping herself, she opens her mouth to take Magilou’s finger in, practically inhales the blood and then pulls back with a decisive _pop_ of her lips once she’s done. But it’s not enough, and Velvet bends down to Magilou’s stomach, tongues at the open wound just above her bellybutton. She clamps her teeth down on broken skin and grinds until blood spurts newly into her mouth, fresh and warm and oh so _satisfying_ as it flows down her throat.

Magilou hisses in pain but that just makes Velvet bite down harder, lips purposefully sucking the spot dry. Once bloodflow to that wound has slowed, Velvet shifts to one on Magilou’s right side; Velvet drinks and drinks and feels relief swell rapidly within her, like she’s finally scratching an eternal itch. That constant, insatiable hunger that never fucking shuts up—for a little while, it actually quiets, and Velvet is briefly awash with a sense of silence, peace, _fulfillment_.

At last, though, Velvet pulls up, that particular impulse having been satiated for the time being. Now, it’s her other impulses that ring loud—her whole body is hot, and her every nerve feels abuzz and alight. Her mouth is still watering, and Velvet watches a bit of bloody drool drip from her own lip onto Magilou’s clavicle, then lifts her gaze to meet wide purple-and-green eyes.

“Whoa there,” Magilou gasps. “You still with me, Vel?”

Velvet doesn’t bother to dignify that with a response. Instead, she just swallows one last time before wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

“I’ve had my fill,” Velvet grumbles, and pointedly sidles forward on her knees, hovering her slick, burning, _aching_ crotch over Magilou’s chin. “Now it’s your turn.”

Magilou laughs, but she obediently cranes her neck to brush her lips against Velvet’s clit.

“Sure. Don’t mind if I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> velvet: my palate has standards. high standards.  
> magilou: [offers own blood]  
> velvet: oh no you're meeting all my standards.


End file.
